


Shijimi

by chibiVeneficus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drunk Sex, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Size Difference, Sticky Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiVeneficus/pseuds/chibiVeneficus
Summary: Gun Legs and Leg trip over each other in a bar. What happens next will surprise you!





	Shijimi

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completely self-indulgent.
> 
> Many, many thanks to [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22) for giving excellent feedback!

He was, Fortress Maximus realized in a moment of clarity, superbly drunk. It took a second to process, and in that short second that thought was discarded in favor of knocking back another mouthful of engex from his empty glass. He blearily stared up into it, brain module taking the scenic route to understanding why no more engex was incoming, before setting the glass aside and staring at his hands.

Getting over-energized had seemed like a great idea at the time. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do, really. He had his mandatory appointments with Rung, and a few with First Aid to keep, but other than that, his time was his own. Ultra Magnus had assured him that when he was cleared for duty he would be officially added to the _Lost Light’s_ roster, but Fort Max doubted that would happen anytime soon.

With nothing official to distract him from the shadows clinging to every corner, and disinclined to make friends with any of the _Lost Light’s_ crew for the moment but not wanting to be completely alone, the secluded corner at the bar had been the obvious solution.

The engex was good and flowed as freely as his shanix, but the barkeep had seemed to know what Max was aiming for and had cut him off after the fourth cube. (“I can’t carry you out at closing,” the barkeep had said, scrubbing away at a nearby, stubborn stain, “and you didn’t bring any friends to do it for me. Sorry pal, no more for you tonight.”)

Droplets of energon chased the corners of the glass as Fort Max turned it in his hands, but drops weren’t going to get him blacked-out fritzed like he had originally hoped.

There wasn’t anything else to be had at the bar other than drowning in his own memories and he could more comfortably do that in his quarters without the whispers and stares behind his back. Being alone suddenly felt more appealing. Fort Max set the glass down and labored to his feet, leaning on the bar top until the static in his vision cleared. He made unsteady progress to the exit using tables and stools and sometimes other patrons to keep on his feet.

He almost made it to the door when his knees decided to give out, and he stumbled into another mech also making for the exit. They clattered together in a clumsy dance as they fought to stay standing.

They bungled to a stop, plating and limbs tangled together. The smaller mech Max had nearly plowed over was hidden under the bulk of Max’s arm, and Max could just see the other mech’s head when he looked down. The bright sheen of optics, their light reflecting off Max’s chest, betrayed the other mech’s own overcharge.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the mech said but didn’t make a move to get out from under Max’s arm. 

“S‘fine. My fault.”

The seconds slowly ticked by as they stood in the doorway.

“You alright?” the mech asked. It was then Fort Max realized they were doing a good impression of a speed bump.

“I’m fine,” Max said, static clinging to his words. He coughed to clear it but it still lingered when he asked, “You?”

“Fine, fine…but I think we’re holding each other up at this point.” The mech made as if to take Max’s arm off his shoulders, but when both of them wobbled at the loss of support, he tucked himself back under. “I’ll walk you to your hab?” he asked.

The mech was vaguely familiar to Max’s addled memories but recognition stayed tauntingly out of reach. Then the mech craned his neck up to meet Max’s optics, and the position sparked a memory file to play.

It was the medic from Delphi, the one who had removed the Decepticon’s decapitated head from Max’s shoulder munitions storage. They hadn’t exchanged more than two words since the shuttle ride to the _Lost Light_ , but he had the feeling the medic didn’t have any bad intentions. Or maybe that was the engex talking.

“Sure, yeah,” he said and rattled off his hab number. He didn’t think he’d make it on his own at this rate anyway. There was only so much a wall could help when his knees refused to lock and the floor kept trying to tilt its way out from under him.

It took a bit of coordination neither of them had to actually exit the bar and start down the hall. They swayed their way to the elevator, and Max would have bounced against the back wall if his crutch hadn’t put the brakes on. 

“Whoa! The buttons are over here, big guy.”

“Right. You‘re right.“ With a clumsy finger, Fort Max pushed for his floor with only a couple of pit stops along the way.

One floor came and went, the doors cheerily pinging as they opened and closed for no one. Fort Max leaned against the wall with a heavy vent, and the mech followed, leaning his weight against Max. It was unexpectedly comfortable.

Fort Max grew more and more aware of the mech under his arm in the time it took the elevator to reach the right floor. The warmth of another’s frame felt good against his. It had been so long since he’d had any friendly contact, not since (he shoved those thoughts down, down), and the engex in his lines spun charge that crawled through his frame. In the morning, when he pieced the night together from corrupt memory files, Max would blame his complete inability to be suave on the engex.

“Wanna frag?”

The immediate, and admittedly surprising, response was, “Yes.”

“Wha--really?”

Max felt the mech shrug. “Why not?”

“Huh.”

The elevator pinged another floor.

“Uh, this is your floor, right?“ The mech asked.

Max squinted at the number readout. “Yes,” he said, and then what that meant registered. “Oh!”

They lurched into motion before the doors closed, managing to get out but not before heels were scuffed. Max pointed them in the right direction and with a wobbly start they were off.

Another step. Two.

“’M Ambulon, by the by.”

“Fortress Maximus.”

“Of course I know who you are!” Ambulon laughed a little but didn’t explain how he knew.

From Delphi, obviously, but Max didn’t know if that was because he’d been there comatose for so long or if Ambulon had ever done anything repair-wise on him. He didn’t want to think about being prone, about being _helpless_ , and battered those thoughts away.

The rest of the walk passed with no more words, which was fine with Fort Max since he wasn’t all that great with small talk. The wandering touches across his back were also a nice deterrent from chatting; he didn’t want to scare them off with awkward words.

They made it to his hab with only a few walls getting in the way, but then there was the challenge of getting inside. Entering the lock pad’s number was made infinitely harder with how distracting Ambulon had become. With their goal almost in reach, the smaller mech seemed intent on starting business out in the hallway. Fort Max fumbled over what numbers he needed to push in correct order as Ambulon left a trail of wet kisses on what chest he could reach.

The door opened at last, and they spilled into the room, only missing the floor because the large recharge slab got in the way. Ambulon slipped out from under his arm to properly sit on the slab and he pulled Fort Max on top. Much larger, Fort Max had a brief moment of panic that he would crush the smaller mech with his greater weight, never mind the fact Ambulon had helped support his heavy aft to the hab, but Ambulon’s touches didn’t falter as the brunt of Max’s weight settled on him again. Ambulon’s hands zeroed in on every gap in Max’s plating, his fingertips tracing along edges and dipping into seams to touch anything and everything. 

Max wanted to touch as well. While his fingers were too big to play with wires under plating, he could stroke his hand over all the flat planes of Ambulon’s chest and shoulders. Paint flaked up if he rubbed too firmly, but it was hard to be grossed out with how Ambulon pushed into the strokes, everything about him screaming arousal.

Kissing was trickier. Their height difference was mitigated now that they had a berth but the sheer difference in frame size was a bit harder to navigate. The engex in their systems didn’t make things any easier trying to line things up; Fort Max nearly had Ambulon’s nose in his mouth more than once when he leaned down to kiss him. Only after enough attempts to be embarrassed and laughed over when sober did they finally get their lips to connect.

It had been a long while since Fort Max had kissed someone, and the pleasant static in his head made it hard to concentrate on what to do now that he had accomplished locking lips. Ambulon’s lips were so soft and pliant on his, it seemed a shame to try and change anything. But Ambulon wasted no time in upping the ante, his small tongue slipping out to slide across Max’s lips. Fort Max eagerly opened, his own tongue sliding against Ambulon’s in close imitation of when they’d knocked into each other earlier that night. His tongue, when he pressed forward, filled the entirety of Ambulon’s mouth. Ambulon enthusiastically sucked on it, a muffled moans escaping as fat drops of lubricant rolled down their chins.

The hand not busy cradling Ambulon’s head continued its journey across his frame. Every line and curve was clumsily mapped and seams were traced to junctions which lead to undiscovered delights. Ambulon, nowhere idle himself, smoothed his hands over Fort Max’s shoulders and reached up past his head to run fingers over his looming treads. It didn’t really do anything for Max, but Ambulon seemed to like it so Max wasn’t going to tell him to stop.

The foreplay was great, but Fort Max was ready to get on to the main event. His hand followed the simple angles of patchy white thighs to their apex, fingertips hungry and eager to caress plump valve lips. Ambulon’s panel, he was pleased to discover, had already retracted, though he couldn’t really understand what his fingers were feeling. He was use to smooth contours and wet, soft textures and what he was feeling was decidedly not that. It was odd enough that he broke the sloppy kiss to look.

_“What the frag are **those**?!”_

Tentacles - and that was what they were, there was absolutely no way they were anything else - framed the area where he had been expecting a valve. The short limbs glowed a soft blue and coiled around each other in a hypnotizing way, moving just fast enough that it was difficult to discern individual details.

“They’re, uh, they’re a mod,” Amublon said. Fort Max watched as the tentacles’ movements slowed, and their glow dimmed. “Sorry, I-I should have warned you about it. We don’t have to continue if you--”

“NO!” Max blurted. The very last thing he wanted to do was stop. “No, no, it’s fine. I just-- I wasn’t expecting…this.”

He tentatively stroked through the mass of tentacles with his forefinger, fascinated by the way they curled around it. Their glow brightened as they moved and little shocks of charge prickled against his plating. It was strange, yes, but he had heard of and seen mods far stranger. Now that the shock of surprise was wearing off, and the warmth of the engex in his tanks had reasserted itself, curiosity had him pressing down and mapping where the tentacles emerged.

Ambulon was quiet as Fort Max explored with his fingers but a quick glance reassured that Ambulon was enjoying the attention if his expression was anything to go by. Max pressed down, fingers carefully feeling along the root of one small tentacle all the way to its tapered end in a gentle stroke. All the others nearby wrapped around what they could of his finger, their glow brightening with the stimulation.

He traced the entirety of Ambulon’s valve with a fingertip, making sure to circle the medic’s node around and around once he managed to find it in the writhing mass. Lubricant welled up from the valve’s hidden entrance, and the tentacles’ movements spread it all over, making them glisten from their own glow. Fort Max dared to dip his fingertip inside, and the damp warmth that registered was horribly enticing. He pushed his finger deeper, deeper, the length disappearing with ease until his knuckles barred further entrance.

Still Ambulon made next to no noise, but the medic’s vents heaved hot air and his grip was almost painful as he arched into Max‘s finger.

Max swirled his buried finger, and this time was prepared for the difference. The sensation was hard to discern but the closest thing he could liken it to was soft velcro. His finger rubbed against the valve’s walls, enthralled by the feel and the way Ambulon moved as his finger did. The tentacles must continue all the way inside, Max realized, becoming smaller and thinner as they went. And while they felt nice against his finger, how would they feel against his tongue?

Well, only one way to find out. Fort Max withdrew despite Ambulon’s quiet protest. He grabbed the undersides of Amblon’s thighs, spread them even further apart, pulled him closer, and dove right in.

As odd as the larger tentacles felt against his fingers, they were an even odder sensation against his face. They traveled over his features, liberally spreading lubricant as they moved. The charge that had prickled at his fingers jolted against his cheeks and nose. It was like having a live wire sitting against his lips. It wasn’t that bad a sensation; already the shocks were smoothing into softer tingles, but then he tried a lick and fireworks erupted throughout his mouth.

It took a moment for the static to clear from his vision. _Wow,_ he thought and licked again, the fireworks not nearly as overwhelming as before now that he knew what to expect but still amazing. The tentacles shivered, trying to cling to his tongue, but their combined lubricant made everything impossibly slick.

With his optics shuttered, and his hands busy keeping Ambulon’s thighs from trying to close around his finials, Max couldn’t figure out where Ambulon’s nub had hidden itself. Determined, he set out to find it again.

The tentacles kept moving around and just as he thought he’d finally rediscovered Ambulon‘s node, it turned out to be a tentacle that had folded in half. Not even trying to follow the gentle curve of the valve’s entrance helped. His tongue slid in so easily and was so delighted to stay and lap at the soft textured walls that it was a distraction from his goal.

It took a fair bit of inquisitive licking but there the nub was, tucked away and almost indistinguishable from the tentacles surrounding it. Max swiped his broad tongue against the slick little node, and rode the startled jerks of Ambulon’s hips. The medic’s hands hooked into whatever seams were in reach and hung on as Max ate him out, quiet gasps and pleas just barely discernible above the combined roar of their vents and engines.

Ambulon overloaded with a gasp and an electrical discharge that scorched through Max’s circuits. Max did his best to keep licking through the aftershocks but his tongue was numb from the electricity and his face felt burnt from the shock. He couldn‘t really tell if he was licking the right parts, but he must have been doing something right because Ambulon continued to grind against his face until the last of the aftershocks faded. Fort Max gladly withdrew his tongue as his jaw started to lockup in protest.

His spike had popped out at some point, and it hung heavy between his thighs aching for stimulation. Max restlessly shifted against the edge of the berth seeking a little relief, but couldn’t get enough friction for anything more than a tease.

Fort Max wanted nothing more than to sink into Ambulon’s wet warmth, but even as inebriated as he still was, he knew that wasn’t a good idea. With their size difference, interfacing that way wouldn’t be possible; at least, not without a lot of preparation and planning neither of them were inclined to do tonight. Instead, he moved from the v of Ambulon’s thighs and got to his knees, turning the still dazed medic onto his front.

“Press your legs together,” Max said, the words staticky around the edges. It took a moment for Ambulon to get his arms and legs beneath him but once he was steady he wasted no time in pushing back against Fort Max’s bulk, eager for more.

Max took hold of his rigid spike and guided it between the medic’s wet thighs. He slowly slid into the small gap, his path eased by copious slickness. Max wrapped both of his hands around the flat planes of Ambulon’s abdomen, helping support the smaller mech’s weight as he began to, a bit unsteady at first, thrust up and forward.

It was bliss. The thin platelets of his spike rubbed delightfully against Ambulon’s thighs, and after his spike stroked through the mass of tentacles several times, they all wrapped loosely around it, creating a warm, wet sheath that prickled deliciously with charge. The tentacles tightened in a rhythm Fort Max was well acquainted with and kept pace when he upped the tempo. The sharp clangs of their plating filled the room, the noise mixing with their engines and vents to create a racket that knocked unpleasantly at his audios but was easily ignored in favor of the pleasure racing through his frame.

Ambulon squeezed his thighs harder, gasps coming quickly one after another as static electricity danced over his plating. One of his hands grasped at Max’s as the other braced himself against the berth while Max rocked harder against him. 

Overload came so abruptly that it was like crashing against a mountainside. Charge jolted through Max’s frame, his pistons and joints locking as ecstasy ignited all of his sensors. Hot transfluid sprayed thick from his spike, coating the back of his hands and Ambulon’s abdomen to drip and pool underneath them. Ambulon himself followed not a moment after, arching hard enough he supported Max’s entire weight for a split-second. The tentacles around Max’s spike released an electrical pulse that shot even more pleasure through his sensor net. Fort Max’s frame shuddered as another, smaller overload rushed through him, the sensation almost too much on top of everything else. He collapsed and buried Ambulon with his bulk, satisfaction humming through the entirety of his limp frame.

“Alright?” Max managed to grunt out, worried that he was crushing his partner but was already half-way powered down to care much. 

“Yeah,” came the muffled response and that was enough to quiet the worry. With a content sigh, Max fell into recharge.

~*~  


Coming to was a slow process, made slower by the unpleasant buzzing in his head. His frame ached with the familiar aftereffects of knocking back one too many and with the soreness of a night spent in fun. The itch of dry lubricant across his face and thighs was an annoyance but still, for the moment, easily ignored.

Recharge almost claimed him again until a muffled “get off me” came from beneath him. It was an immense effort to lift himself up just enough to collapse a bit more to the side. Hot air blasted his side and treads, and the heat served as an effective wake-up slap that had him onlining his optics.

Fort Max turned his head and met Ambulon’s stare.

“So…” he started but faltered. It had been a _long_ time since he was last in this type of situation, and the mechanics of what came next eluded him. The throbbing in his head didn’t help at all.

“So.” Ambulon twisted until he was on his back and pulled a rag from subspace to wipe the mess off his face. He moved onto the dried transfluid on his abdomen, but it resisted being cleaned. “Last night was great. From what isn‘t corrupted.”

“Yeah.”

Had Ambulon’s face always looked so…dour? The engex had probably loosened him up, Fort Max thought as he reviewed what pieces he had of last night‘s memories. Ambulon hadn’t been much for vocalization, but a pleased smile had split his face in two every time Max had thought to look. What few times they’d interacted before, all of them while sober, a stern line had dominated the medic’s face.

“I wouldn’t mind a repeat in the future but maybe without the engex binge first,” Ambulon said and gave up trying to wipe the transfluid off. He subspaced the rag to replace it with a small chip he immediately plugged into one of his ports. His frame relaxed as he sighed with relief.

Fort Max floundered for a response. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he finally managed to say, feeling horribly awkward and very surprised that Ambulon would consider hooking up with him again.

“Anyway, I’ve got to be on shift soon, and I _really_ need to clean up.” Ambulon looked down at the mess of his paintjob, where huge swathes of blue and purple sat next to orange and white. He scratched a bit at the edges but didn‘t seem too perturbed that it looked like an entire repaint was in order.

Max winced. “Sorry about that,” he said. Max hadn’t thought about the damage he‘d been doing in the heat of the moment. Even under dim lighting the patchy contrast between colors was noticeable.

“Hm? Oh. It‘s fine. I needed a touch-up anyway.”

“Do you want any help?”

“Nah. I’ve got a lot of practice,” Ambulon said, his lips twisted in a wry line. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Ambulon tapped Fort Max’s thigh and, belatedly, the larger mech finished dragging his legs away, freeing the medic. Ambulon stretched as he stood, his plating unsealing, extending and resettling in a full-body shudder that had Max’s complete attention. Though Max knew Ambulon wasn’t a monoformer, the fact that he didn’t have any kibble was strangely appealing. There was also the matter of Ambulon’s lower back and thighs which were streaked with grey and white paint transfers that spoke of a damn good frag. It stroked Max’s ego a little.

Ambulon faced him and pulled another small chip out of subspace. “Here, for any lingering static,” he said and placed it on the edge of Max’s shoulder. He headed for the door without waiting for a response.

“Thank you,” Max thought to say before Ambulon opened the door.

“No problem. See you around,” Ambulon said over his shoulder and then he was gone.

_Well, that could have gone much worse,_ Fort Max thought as he idly examined the chip between his fingers before plugging it in. The sharp pains edging around his thoughts immediately dulled into something more manageable.

Fort Max sighed and faceplanted into the berth. His plating was really starting to itch now but he was disinclined to get up just yet, busy reviewing cleaned-up memories of last night. It had been a fantastic time. Max hoped Ambulon would agree to spend the night again. But knowing his horrible luck, that wouldn’t happen. It was astonishing last night had happened; a repeat wouldn’t be in the future for him, who was he kidding.

He hoisted himself up and off the soiled berth and plotted a route to the washracks that would hopefully be empty of wandering crew. Once he was washed off and the paint transfers buffed out, he would see to his berth, and from there…he’d see if the bar was open.

**Author's Note:**

> Ambulon's mod inspired by [this](http://chibiveneficus.tumblr.com/post/96926622384/thelovelyseas-clam-by-scott1e2310-on-flickr)


End file.
